The Monster Under the Bed
by GotchaYouLilDirtbag
Summary: I just can't believe I found this fic after all this time. A character exploration focusing on Sawyer, set the morning after the episode: The Long Con. Please R&R. Please...


Carries on in the morning after "The Long Con". Oh my God, I lost this fic (back when I was Bcat) and just found it! Wow. Just a short sort of character exploration piece. Hope you enjoy and really hope someone comments! Wah, so lonely without feedback.

The Monster Under the Bed.

The good doctor was not talking to him. And his little bulldog Lieutenant Ana Lulu was not talking to him, but then again she never had. Locke, Sayid and all the rest of the lemmings were not talking to him either, even when they were talking to him. And Bill Sikes junior? Well, nobody was talking to the baby-napper anymore. And Charlie wasn't talking them, all tucked into his grave up there on Junky Dune as he was. And that suited Sawyer just fine.

They did all stare at him though: with stupid hurt and anger in their dull cow eyes. He did not stare back. That made them crazy. It made him smile.

Yeah, this is what the Bad Man looks like kiddies, y'all best remember it in future.

In a nutshell everything was returning to normal in Sawyer-land. The days of saccharine, group-hugging, happy camper fraudulent bullshit was done in, its cover blown at last. Fucking, thieving, duplicitous little blood suckers. Did they think they could smile at him and he wouldn't notice or pay any mind that they had robbed him blind? Did Jack think he would not see his bottle of painkillers back on the bunkroom table? Oh, but the good doctor had meant for him to see it alright. It had been bait for his little test. (A fucking test, the arrogant bastard!) Would bad ol' Sawyer be a good boy now? Would he get absolution and a pat on the head from his benevolent majesty Jack the ass? Would that make him worthy to join the King's army?

Well fuck you Jackie boy, look whose King now!

Yep, everything was back on track; he was colouring inside the lines again and all that bullpucky. So let them all snub him with their fucking self-righteous, wounded silences; just as long as they knew who the King Shit was now. Yeah, all his ducks were finally lined up in a row. Except for one little thing: Freckles was still talking to him. Oh, she was angry with him all right, furious-fucking-angry; so full up with feeling she could barely look at him. But she was still talking to him.

It made him crazy. It made him madder than fuck.

It put him on the offensive.

"See somethin' you like Freckles?" He had said to her this morning Kate passed by his tent. He said it whilst he was making a show to the camp, cleaning his enormous gun, the biggest one in his new armoury, chosen for that single feature to be his showpiece. He said it whilst the gun was propped obscenely between his legs. Bullseye! He hit his target, shutting her up before she could force a 'good morning' for the monster in his cave. So instead she gave him the ugliest look she had given him yet, and continued without stopping on her way to visit Sun on her sick bed. He frowned at her, irritated at being so perturbed by that look, watching until she reached the point where he got an involuntary eyeful of the island's newest patient, and her bruises. He stopped watching.

Sawyer took that monster gun with him everywhere and not just out of necessity. He wanted them all to see in the light of the new day that this was not a game, that things had changed and the devil was back in town, on his throne, in their faces. He wanted them to choke on the knowledge. And, for the most part it worked.

Oh, he wasn't fooled into thinking he'd won and it was over. Oh no, he'd been around the block too many times to think that. No, this was just the next move in the game. Jack and his inner sanctum had turned the plotting up a notch, as he'd known they would, as he'd known they must. He saw them huddled around the beach, in the jungle, behind palms and walking along the trails, always sporting stern and manly expressions – even Xena the cop. Sometimes they meant for him to see them and sometimes they didn't, but he didn't bother to hide his contempt either way.

So, that was how he ended up toting his bazooka to the waterhole when he needed some privacy to wash without fear Sayid would shoot him in the back whilst he took a dip in the sea. He didn't particularly choose the little lake for the death lying on the bottom of it, but it did seem fitting once he thought about it.

He was alone when he entered the clearing before the pool. No one had followed him, he had made sure. Kate was right when she said he couldn't track worth a damn, but he was damn good at avoiding a tail when he had a mind to. And today he had a mind to. Nevertheless, he pushed the gun into a clump of bushes before stripping off further along the bank. He might be confident, but he wasn't stupidly so. The cemeteries were full of overconfident men.

He dove in. The water was cool, almost cold, against his skin. He swam down deep, down to the dead at the bottom on the waterhole. This far down the water was icy and dark, and the weakened sunlight gave the corpses under his feet a ghastly luminescence. He stared at them. The water was preserving them better than if they had been on land, but time had taken more flesh from their bones since his last visit, and not one of them had a full head on their shoulders anymore.

This fate could have been his. Maybe it should have been, maybe it still would be…

He kicked to the surface and burst out into the air, the light, the sound of chattering birds and the person on the bank pointing the huge gun at his head.

"Well, well now Rambina," he smiled, treading water. "Never figured you to be the one to do me in." He checked the bank either side of the grim, tense woman standing on the shoreline. "What, didn't bring the army along for the execution? Aw shucks, don't tell me Jack still won't let you join up?"

"Get in here Sawyer." Kate said, lowering the gun a little. He frowned, she was still tense as hell and holding onto his gun with white knuckles. Despite that he began stroking smoothly back to the grassy bank anyway. Was this a new game? Well, then… He pulled himself out onto the bank to stand in all his glory in the bright island sun.

"Not going to shoot a man in his birthday suit are you Freckles?" He smiled. Then walked, swaggered, the few paces between then so that the gun muzzle touched his belly. It would really hurt if she pulled the trigger: everyone said gut wounds were the worst, but with a gun this big and this close it would be over in no time. Curiously, he found he really didn't mind if she did it. Dying with Freckles nearby did not sound so bad. "Unless offing naked guys is your kink? You been holding out on me Kate?" He noticed that the gun was now pointing in a more southerly direction. Did she think that would make a difference to him? Well, actually it did, but he wasn't about to say so. He looked down. "Well, ain't you just Freudian today."

"Put some pants on Sawyer." She suddenly lowered the gun all the way to the ground. Her eyes did a quick dip. Her lips quirked into a brief almost smile. "You look 'cold'."

"Very funny." He stepped back to retrieve his jeans. Hauled and zipped up. "You gonna give me back what's mine?"

"No."

"No? I beg your pardon."

"You and I are going to talk." She considered the gun. "Then I might give it back."

"Might?" He stared at her. This was confusing: he felt like laughing when at the same time he felt like taking the gun back by force. He made a snatch for the weapon. She pulled back and he missed. "Sonnava – give it back!"

"No!" She had her hand out 'stop'. "Don't make me point it at you again!" He glared, dark brows lowering. Last night's anger was still there, bubbling along under his skin. His eyes narrowed. There were only a few feet between them; he could take back his fucking gun without much of a fight. He stepped forward. She stepped back. "Sawyer."

"Give it back or-"

"Or what? I'm not going to give it back right now, so if you want it you are going to have to take it from me."

"You might be one strong lady Freckles, but I'm still a man and worse for you, a total bastard on top of it, so you know I can do just that. You know I could, you know I will."

"Yes." Was all she said. That was worse than a bullet. He tried to step forward, imagining the moves before he made them. Imagining the feel of her soft skin under his tearing hands as he ripped the gun away, as he landed the one good heavy fist he knew he would need, right over that delicate cheekbone. She didn't move. "But you can't, can you?"

"What do you want?" He rasped at her. Fuck it, fuck her, fuck him. He tensed all over, anger coiling his muscles. He wanted to smash things.

"I don't know just how much you did yesterday or how much you just took advantage of." She said. "Sun is back there with a concussion she didn't deserve. She could have died. If you had a hand in that- "

"If I did then what?" He goaded. He'd make her give that gun back, or shoot him with it.

"If you had a hand in that then I don't know what to do Sawyer." She paused, looking pained. Looking sad. "I thought I knew-" It made him furious.

"Well you don't Kate. You don't know me, at all." He spat. "You don't know shit."

"Then tell me."

"Ha!" The laugh that burst from his lips was nearly hysterical. "Now I know you're playing me. Where's the army hiding? Where's my executioner? Jack!" He called to the jungle. "You wanting me to spill enough so you can feel all justified 'bout doing the dirty work yourself?" He looked back at Kate and found her unsmiling. She wasn't joking. "Are you out of that pretty head of yours Freckles? I ain't telling you shit."

"You told me about the letter."

He froze. Swallowed. That was a low blow, even for this conversation. The grief of its loss was still as raw as the moment he realised it was gone. He should never have told her about it. About any of it. What the hell had been thinking? Jesus. He felt ripped open. He always did with her. But this was going too far.

"Don't you talk about that!" He said. He could not keep the pain out of his voice. If she pushed him on this he would hit her, and he might not stop. "Don't you dare talk about that here.

"I'm not your fucking dime store romance novel Kate! You can't save me and I want you to stop trying." She made to speak, but he held up a hand. "You gotta stop. You can't save me! And you can't because I'm not the hero of the piece, Kate. I'm not your hero. I ain't no Luke Skywalker. I ain't even Han Solo. I'm the fucking dark side.

"This," he threw up his hands, "is what I do. I con, I take, and I fuck everything up. I chose this shitty life. I chose it when I got in trouble and chose to con that pretty lady and her dumb husband out of what I needed, and I've messed up every goddamn chance I was ever given to set things straight.

"I'm not a good person, Kate. You say that I want people to hate me. Well, that don't make it wrong. I'm a fucking monster, and you gotta leave me be."

She didn't say anything, but he could see in her eyes that he had frightened her, made her hurt. And oh shit, that tore into him like Zeke's bullet. He couldn't deny it to himself. Oh, he was such a bastard. He was a piece of shit. But, this time this piece of shit was going to stay on track and do this one little vital, good thing. She had to get away from him.

She handed him back his gun. He took it from her without another word.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to rail against his world, tear it from its axis and kick it into the sun. He wanted to be worthy of her persistence, but he had been right last night when he had told her that people don't change. But he did nothing.

He was a monster.

"Sawyer." When she spoke again, she was on the edge of the clearing. He looked up at her. "I don't hate you. I don't want to hate you, and I don't think I should hate you. I don't even think I can hate you.

"But, you go ahead and think what you like. Go on and tell yourself that I'm a fool, or worse, that I am a liar. But deep down you know I'm neither, and I'm telling you that you aren't a monster and I don't hate you.

"I'm not saying that to challenge you to prove that I am wrong, because I'm not wrong and there's nothing you can do to about it." She almost smiled, though her eyes were still sad. "But I'm not going to force you to believe me either; I can't force you to let me in. Because you see Sawyer, I'm no hero either; and as I've always said: I'm not your nurse.

"Just don't do anything you can't undo." And she disappeared from view.

The end


End file.
